


Flowers in Russia

by jxtxadore



Series: Prompts [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Communication, Fluff, M/M, or lack there of, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3994084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jxtxadore/pseuds/jxtxadore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  And then maybe a Russia x america one because I am RusAme trash, where America is a pilot who is staying in Moscow, and he meets Ivan who owns a little flower shop, and Alfred, goes into the flower shop to get out of the cold and he and Ivan see each other and it’s pretty much love at first sight. So neither of them talk the first time,because Alfred doesn’t much Russian but every night Alfred comes into the flower shop and buys flowers so he can see Ivan until one of em is brave and asks the other out VERY awkwardly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers in Russia

One thing the American would never get over was just how cold it always was in Russia. NOt only was the outside cold, but everywhere he went seemed to be in the negative degrees. He had came in the summer, and when winter hit, he was frozen to the core. Just rushing between the different places he needed to was enough to give him hypothermia, he always would write to his brother, Mattie. It was just how he was, always bragging and claiming more than what was really there. Yet, even then, the other still loved him. It helped that they were twins, he supposed.

With the wind biting his nose like a playful lover, he slipped into a small shop, to give him a small reprieve from the bitter cold, if only for a few moments. His eyes closed, and he breathed in, a wave of beautiful flower scent greeting him. He smelt so many ones, and it was such a beautiful experience, reminding him of the years he had grown up in the plains of America. His eyes closed, as he smelled roses, tulips, camomile, and so many others.

His eyes, naturally opened, when he heard something getting knocked over. He located it in only a moment, with the only other person in the store being a man around his age, though just a bit taller. His eyes were amazingly coloured, nearly a violet, with pale lashes ringed around them, seemingly much lighter than his hair was. His lips were just barely open, and Alfred had the desire to kiss such beautiful lips, to make him that way after pressing him up against the wall, and kissing him senseless. The thought made him lick his suddenly dry lips quickly, just a dart out. His eyes were running over Alfred hungrily, and his own eyes took the cue to let his own eyes look over the other.

Tall, with a turtleneck shirt on, he seemed to have a bit of pudge here and there, yet Alfred did not mind. His pants were dark, and his hands were large, enough to make his stomach curl up, and do a happy flop. It had always been one of Alfred’s biggest attractions to men, when their hands were large. His stomach curled a little more, unable to process all that he was seeing in such a short amount of time.

The other man was not doing too much better. He knew he was not following proper owner edicate, staring at his customer like he had never seen one before, instead of greeting him, or picking up the mess he had caused. Yet, the appearance of the man was such a surprise that he couldn’t help it. He had never come in before, that he was sure of. He was new, and he was so very beautiful. He was reminded of so many flowers, as he looked at him. Surely his skin was like a lily, though the colour was a bit lighter, more human. His hair was the exact shade of the sunflower just next to him, the yellows matching nearly perfectly. It was uncanny, and his breathing became more restricted.

He was shorter than what Ivan was, but by only a small amount. He was certain that the other would be perfect to press against a wall, or to do the pressing. Either way, it would feel perfect to them both, that he was sure of. The bomber jacket he was wearing was most likely infused with the scent of the man, something he slowly smelt. Like earth and sun, like waters and sweat. All just perfectly mixing to make up the amazing scent that was almost covering the flowers he always smelt. His legs were encased in jeans, and it was a sight that he never wanted to forget, the first time he had seen the other, stumbling into his shop in a wave of cold and snow.

“ _здравствуйте_ ,” He managed after a few moments, the word slightly strangled on it’s way out. He licked his lips and tried again, managing to get more of a ground on it. “ _здравствуйте_ ,” He repeated, and smiled. However, the look on the other’s face showed that he was completely unsure of what he had said.

“Ah… Do you speak English?” the customer asked, his brows coming together. Such a nice voice; full of kindness and a thirst for something, something he most likely could not have. It was such a beautiful sound that he closed his eyes and sighed as it passed over him. “Are you alright?” He heard, though the words were foreign to him. He wasn’t sure how to reply, his brow furrowing. Such beautiful sound, so deep and nervous. He blushed, and belt down, to pick up the fallen display.

he was surprised when he saw a pair of tanned skin meeting his pale skin, to help him pick up.

“You do not need to!” The words were said in Russian, a surprised exclamation. He was rewarded with a small laugh, and the other did not stop with his actions. No, he merely increased what he had, the items being stacked up, so he wouldn’t have to stack them himself. He was utterly surprised when he stood, all the items picked up, and put to the side of the register.

“There you are,” he heard once more, even though he did not understand the words. The tanned man looked around the flowers, as Ivan composed himself. He was glad that he was distracted,a s he looked around the room, for something to do, something that would make him seem like he was competent. He was able to find something easily, and started to get orders ready, his stomach still nervous.

Alfred managed to find a small, pre made bouquet, and walked up to the other.

“Uh… _money_? No… _Cost_?” He had been trying to pick up some Russian, and he suppose he had a reason to try and learn it, now. Ivan told him the cost, in slow Russian, so he would get it proper, and yet he even still fumbled with the coins. Ivan couldn’t help but find it endearing, really. He moved a hand to help the other, gently separating the coins. When he looked up, his breath almost caught in his throat, seeing just how close he was to the American.

Alfred was doing no better, his hands against Ivan’s, his breath caught just as much as Russian’s. He couldn’t help whispering something, beautiful, as they looked at each other. However, when a voice from the back came to their ears, Alfred pulled away, his blush colouring his cheeks. More words came, but Ivan understood it as well as he could. The look of courteous gratitude was upon his face, and the Russian nodded in understanding. After just a moment longer, Alfred nodded, and moved to the door, his hand held the flowers, and he sniffed it softly, as he turned out of the shop.

Ivan smiled, his head tilting back a little, as his breath went out of his mouth. Just a little bit away from him, Alfred was doing much the same, pressed against the wall, the cold no longer biting his nose. Perhaps it was more that he couldn't’ feel the pain of the wind, but his eyes were shining in joy. Such a thing was surely only for movies, wasn’t it? To find someone just right in a moment of confusion. It really was a dream to him. Yet, it was a beautiful dream, one he would be happy to enjoy forever. His eyes closed, as he softly blew out some air, and smelled the flowers. A beautiful smell. He was sure that the Russian man smelled similar, full of flowers and life.

He couldn’t help going to the shop every other day. Once or twice, he met his sister, who knew english, and he tried to learn some words, until she just gave him a book to translate between the languages. He had been very happy when she had, and he said thank you at least twice in english, then at least three more times in Russian. She smiled at him, just a bit hopeful for him. Perhaps he would be worthy of her brother.

So here he was, a few months later, standing in front of the large man, flicking through the pages, as he had forgotten how to say the words he had been practicing for weeks.

“ _Will_ _you_...No… Ah... _Date_ …? _With_ _me_?” His american accent stuttered through the Russian, softening the hard words, and when Ivan understood the words, with all the finesse of a five year old, he smiled. More than smiled, his entire face lit up, and it seemed like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, when he heard the words.

“Yes,” he said, the english words the opposite of America’s, hardening the words, and he gave a small laugh. “Yes, Alfred.” The American smiled in return, and leaned over the counter, kissing him, his hand cupping the other's cheek. A soft kiss, full of joy, in a language they both understood. One that they would always understand.


End file.
